He Don't Even know! - Tat-In-the-Dark

This is my "Boyfriend"
I'll call him Billy.

He's fun to cuddle up with on cold nights.
He laughs when I go underneath all the blankets 

to figure out which one of his tattoos glows-in-the-dark.

He actually told me that when we first met,

I pretended to believe him...
Okay, I believed him!

 I guess I was really excited to find out

 where it was!

FU Cupid - Venue wish upon a Bar

Even though I haven't given up, I sometimes play up that I have because

I don't get as many dates as I think I should.  Yes, I do like to be the one who is asked

because I prefer to know that the other  is interested and not just out  with me because

they didn't know how to say "no."  Despite that, the few dates I have been out on in the past year, I did the asking.

Of course, when you are the one asked, you generally don't get to plan the date.

This is one reason I think Cupid is F'ed up.  EVERYONE should be gifted 

with the ability to plan a date, but it seems many people have no clue

what makes a good date activity.  Sure, I've worried about the dates I've planned, 

but I at least thought it out.

This one date I went out on started well enough; we went to the Skylight Bookstore

and enjoyed a reading by one of my date's favorite authors.  

I had no clue who the author was, nor any particular interest in his book, but I did appreciate the reading and the surroundings.  We chatted as we waited in line to get my date's book signed and it was all quite nice.  That is until he got his book signed and I took their picture together with my camera.  After that, it was as if Mother Teresa farted.  There was a pleasant air around us, but it was just awkward.  He hadn't thought about what would happen after the reading and it was still pretty early.  I threw out some suggestions that he nixed.  Then, I thought, "Well, if the night's done out here, maybe we should go to my place and make out to my new Donnie Osmond record."  So, I made a no-so-veiled suggestion that we head to my place to bump faces, which he held off and said, "No, wait, I wanna go somewhere first."

I'll confess, I got a little excited because I thought, for a second, he meant House of Pies.  

To my confusion, we ended up in the parking lot of The Faultline.  A bar.  A gay bar. A notoriously slutty gay pick-up bar.  Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy spending time at the Faultline. I enjoy it when I'm with friends, out for a good time, including shameless slutty flirting and grab-assing.  I also enjoy it, when I'm out on the prowl, looking for a one-night-stand with LTR potential.  Not on a date.

Seriously, what is it about a guy that makes him think that this is a good place for a date?  If he wanted  a cocktail, there were certainly more appropriate lounges or neighborhood watering holes. Heck, we were 100 feet away from the Dresden- that would have been a fun & kitchy extension of the evening.  But, no, here we were at an almost abandoned leather bar (It was much too early for the party crowd and too late for the wasted day drinkers.) with a guy or two dancing on a box.
My mood shifted and it just got awkward, again.  Sadly, I don't think he even realized that I was not having a good time, what with him watching the dancers gyrate, and all.

I think he really was clueless when he dropped me off at home and I didn't invite him in.  

It was a bad date. 

 I think I was more confused than upset. Why was that?
Are we gays trained to think that the bar is the place where ALL the magic happens?
Isn't the bar where we go when we don't have a date?

I think it's like driving past the cherry orchard to the 7-Eleven to get some cherry flavored Kool-Aid.

I think I wrote this guy off because, ideally, I want to be with someone with more imagination and creativity.

I didn't give him a second thought. 

And I thought about the dancer on the box when I jerked off that night.

He Don't Even Know! - Imaginario!

Hola, Miguel!

Here's my Latin "Love" Imaginario

who loves that I do 

CHICO'S ANGELS

He's so into it that he comes to every show 

and insists on helping me carry 

all my drag crap!

I've been tempted to recommend him
to be a show hunk,
but I want him all to myself!

Cutest Frieda fan, ever!

This Is Why I Am Single - Glenn

Hey, remember my Die Alone Buddy, Glenn?
Well, he's got a little to say about dating,
And it goes something like this...

LOSE USE MY NUMBER

by Glenn Gaylord

People always tell me I should write a book about my dating disasters. My rote response has always been, “This is my life. It’s not funny. I don’t gain anything from rehashing it.” Sure, I could commiserate with others, or save another lonely soul from making the same mistakes, but will my musings stop people from canceling at the last minute? Will they make people nicer? God, I hope so! Here goes.

I’ve been more or less single for the past 8 years and I can count the number of dates I’ve had, well, not on one hand, but let’s just say that I can count them, and that ain’t good. I blame Los Angeles. I blame my ever-increasing age, or my big nose, my not being super rich, or my failure at not having a 6-pack! I blame myself for poor judgment. I blame a culture supportive of the fact that more excitement is just over your shoulder or at your texting fingertips. I’ve thrown the blame around so much that it’s not important to me anymore. I’ve grown tired of advice from others if it includes the directive, “Stop looking and something will come along when you least expect it.” As Kristen Wiig’s SNL character, Aunt Linda, would say:

That advice doesn’t work for taxis, jobs, or eating, so why should it work when it comes to love? Believe me, I’ve tried it, and my life experience has proven to me that nothing gets dropped in your lap, except for bird poop. Yes, a bird once pooped in my lap, but I looked at the bright side. At least it showed up!

My dates tend to text at the last minute that they’re tired, despite confirming hours prior, or they just don’t show up at all. I’ve learned the ones who flake are most often the same people who tell me how much they hate it when people cancel at the last minute.

Now before you label me a bitter, old queen, I’ll defend myself by saying that I’m a pretty fun date. I have a wide variety of interests, from movies, hiking, biking, skiing, travel, and politics. I care about the world and have dedicated most of my life to making it better. I show up showered and fresh, and I’ll probably open a door for you at some point. Oh, I also play a mean game of footsie if you float my boat.

I just don’t count on that boat to dock every time. I expect the cancellation so that I won’t be surprised if it happens. I’ll have a soft Plan B with a friend, and sadly, exercise that option more often than not. The bright side is that I have a lot of wonderful people in my life who ARE there for me. I used to rant and rave at my almost-dates. I’d remind them of their shortcomings, call them rude, ask who raised them, and finish with a very curt and very final, “Lose my number!” The momentary satisfaction was nice, but I felt my soul being sucked out of my body. Now I just don’t respond. So if you feel the same as I do, then HMU, as the kids say. I promise I won’t bite if you cancel. I won’t say anything at all.

Too Busy For Love - It's a Mismatch!

If you had asked me out last week or so, I would have had to turn you down.  You see, I was very busy. I was doing The Mismatch Game at the Renberg Theater at Ed Gould Plaza at the Village at the LGBT Center in Hollywood.  I've been doing the show for over ten years and have loved every minute of it.
The show is the brainchild of Dennis Hensley, who started doing it as birthday party fun and grew it into a fundraiser for the Center.  Over the past ten years, the show has raised over $100,000 for programs aimed at gay youths.
I first started as the Vanna White guy- helping sort prizes and helping Dennis pull names to get people out of the audience and on to the stage as contestants.  Then Dennis finally took pity on me (or was desperate to fill a slot) and let me do Herve Villichaize one weekend in Palm Springs.

I must not have sucked because I found myself in his stable of stars, which also includes people I admire and learn very much from including; Julie Brown, Kate Flannery, Jackie Beat, Jack Plotnick, Sam Pancake, Drew Droege, Tom Lenk, Tony Tripoli, Madeline Long, Patrick Bristow, Kali Rocha and so many, many more.  One particular show, I was seated next to Nicol Paone, doing her spot on Arianna Huffington. She was on fire! So much so that I felt like a molecule next to the sun. It was then that I decided I wanted to up my game, be better and bring more to the show. Maybe I was tired of Herve, but I just didn't feel like I was delivering as well as I might have. (and perhaps could have done a little more preparation.) Dennis let me try something new, Harvey Fierstein.

This one I really tried to prep for. I did my research, got his voice down, but I didn't really shine here either. I'd say I did okay and didn't stand out suck, but it certainly wasn't what I set out to do. I guess if I'd lived in the character a little longer, I would have felt a little more at ease and ready to interact with the others on stage in a more dynamic way. It just felt weird to be up there in a show I'd done for years, feeling like a newbie. Then Dennis, in his wise ways, asked how I'd feel about doing the show as my drag character Reba Areba. I lit up at the idea.

This seems to be the delightful fit I hoped it would be. We play up that Dennis was expecting Reba McEntire, but got me instead. It's always a blast and I'm grateful to Dennis for letting me be a part of it. As a matter of fact, Dennis is a big part of why I'm too busy for love. He constantly has something going on and is always willing to find a way to let me be involved. If you'd like to see what Dennis is up to at any given moment, pop on over to the Blog Cabin over there on the right --> and click the link to his blog, which is connected to his website which also features his way awesome podcast DENNIS, ANYONE?


Okay, then.   I have to go, I'm very busy!

S'up muh DAB - Desperate for a Connection

My blog is fairly new and I still have plenty to say,
but sometimes I worry I'm too focused on me.
So, I found something that is almost, nearly connected to my theme.
On the surface, it's about a webseries called MGR (My Gay Roommate)
It sounds like a show about a pair of guys who have found a nice DAB (Die Alone Buddy) situation, despite being differently oriented.  I haven't had an opportunity to check it out on YouTube, but it sounds terrifically on topic.

What I'm really blogging about is photographer Austin Wondo's blog entry about his
adventurous photo shoot with the two stars of the show, Noam Ash and Austin Bening.
You know I love photography and I've been a fan of Wondo's photography for a few years.
I thought you might enjoy it, too! (There's a link to his full NSFW blog in the Blog Cabin, over to the right ->)

And just so there appears to be a connection, I'm posting a pic of me and my former roommate of over ten years ago.  I don't think I ever thought we'd die alone together, but in any case, he lives in Ft. Lauderdale now, so it's an official DAB Fail.

He Don't Even Know! - A Remote Chance

This is "Terry",
He wears sunglasses

because they're mysterious
and he is unexpectedly & delightfully shy!

I'll always pretend to remember
our first in-home date at his place.

He turned on the TV,

hit some random button on the remote,

and turned very red with embarrassment.

His faulty button push revealed

that he had the entire final season of 

THE MENTALIST

all saved up to watch.

He gave me the sweetest kiss

when I told him I like the show, too!
We bent-spooned on the sofa and
started watching right then!
I know how it ends.

Gay of a Certain Age - San Francisco Days End

This book was published on January 21, 2014.  I could not wait to read it!  I pre-ordered it three months in advance.  I carefully moved books around to make room for this one next to the other TALES books.  I have not read it.  I haven't read it because THE DAYS OF ANNA MADRIGAL is the last book in a series of books that have meant very much to me.  As a Gay of a certain age, I was there when the six-hour mini-series based on the Original TALES OF THE CITY aired on PBS in 1994.  I watched the show over three nights and ate it up like an entire season of Knots Landing in six hours.  It was the first time I had seen gay characters treated like regular folks and it's probably no coincidence that I finally admitted to myself that I was gay less than a year later.
After seeing the mini-series, I immediately bought the book and zipped through it.  Mind you, I'm not one to dedicate much time to reading, but I sat and read all six books in the series, one after another and wished for more.  I remember reading and wishing I had a friend like Mouse (Nevermind that I already did...).  After letting the books settle within me, I turned it around and wished that I could BE a friend like Mouse.  I think in some ways I have succeeded, in many ways not.  Not only did the books influence my behavior, but the unlikely adventures featured in these magical books, helped me to look at people in a different way.  Instead of thinking, "What the fuck is wrong with them?" I would take time to imagine their own private Tale and writing off their behavior toward me as a direct result of accidentally dating a child pornographer.
I grew to love the characters, and would see the faces of the perfectly cast original stars of the first TALES whenever I thought about them. (There were Showtime presentations of the next two books that declined in quality- as far as treatment of the material).
I got so excited when Armistead Maupin revived the series with MICHAEL TOLIVER LIVES and followed up with Mary Ann Singleton's story.  Then, finally, this; THE DAYS OF ANNA MADRIGAL, which is said to wrap everything up.  I don't want it to end.  These books were there when I was at an early stage of self acceptance and started up again as I was accepting that my spunky attitude and a crapload of colorful plastic things may be all I have to keep me company.
Maybe I'm holding on to the memory without appreciating the influence.  Perhaps these books are more like training wheels that need to come off of my bike.

I think I can read the last book and let go of these people- this person, Anna Madrigal who embodied that strength of spirit, that generosity of love & acceptance, that absence of judgement, that teacher of life and that dispenser of truth that I hope I can be, even in the smallest way, sometime.  I will be brave, like Anna, and read this last book and hope that I can accept where it leaves me.
So, once more, I'll be transported to San Francisco, but it'll be up to Mr. Maupin to determine whether I return a wreck or at peace.  Wish me luck.

He Don't Even Know! - The Eyes Have It!

Say hello, to my "Boyfriend", Abby!

His real imaginary name is David.
I call him Abby because one night we got a little tipsy

on Vanilla Lemon Drops,

shaved his face,
went to this video on YouTube

and applied make-up until 

he resembled Donna Mills.
(Luckily, I had a blonde wig on hand)
With those beautiful eyes, how could we not?

That's what I love most about Abby,

He's always up for an impromptu madcap adventure!

S'up, Muh DAB? - Glenn

This is Glenn, he's one of my DABs- (Die Alone Buddy).
Glenn is a fellow single fella who's currently dating or just meeting guys.
We live close to each other and share close friends, so we spend a lot of time together.
...mostly eating.  I don't mind eating alone, sometimes I prefer it, but it is nice to have someone to talk to or yell at.
Did I say yell at?  Yep, I did.  Over meals and movies and various social events, Glenn and I have fallen into a The Bickersons type relationship. We bicker, argue, or sometimes say just plain awful things to each other.  Why?  Now, in gay friendships (probably hetero ones, too) there's usually a little bit of catty play in groups, where we make fun of each other, then reflectively, make fun of ourselves, but I've noticed that there's usually a one-on-one Bickersons pair that stands out.  Maybe it's just me, because I know I've had this type of relationship with other friends, and seldom two at the same time.  It's interesting to me how we'll turn the simplest exchanges into arguments, or if not arguing, use an argumentative tone.  We make "yes, thank you" sound like the closing statement in a mass murder trial.
I know we're just playing.  God, I hope he knows we're just playing...  But, what is it with these friendships where aggression takes the lead?  Is it a fun, playful way to get out the frustration of other areas of our lives?  When I unleash the hounds because Glenn can't think of a place where he wants to have dinner, is it really me reacting to not being happy with having to work the reception desk on Fridays, now?
When Glenn angrily agrees to brunch at Hugo's, AGAIN, is it really because his dog is an idiot?
I care about Glenn; I care about his life, his relationships, his happiness and we enjoy so many things together, so I don't know what it could possibly be that makes us bicker.  When did we mutually & silently agree to be each other's punching bag?  When I tell him I hate him so much for picking MAPS TO THE STARS last Friday night, he knows I don't really hate him, right?  I'm sure he was kidding when he added "...for you." to "That was pretty good."   I do know that when we have actually had an issue (a rarity), the tone is more quiet and serious, so I know we're not playing.
Should I worry, or is this a regular and legitimate type of friendship?
Do we all need someone we can be an asshole with?

This isn't my first ride on the Gay Movie Cliche-go-round, so, no, I'm certain there is no sexual tension.  This ain't a MOONLIGHTING thing where we argue instead of schtupping. (If it was, I'd be the Dave.  I don't know if Glenn is the Maddie, but I am definitely the Dave.)  So, I don't know what it is.  All I know is we enjoy each other's company, like movies a lot and care about some of the same stuff & people.  I know that if there was trouble, I could turn to Glenn and he could turn to me. I imagine that conversation would end like this, "FINE! I'll donate my damned kidney, but next week we're eating at Salt's Cure!"  So, I'm secure in our friendship, but I'm not sure if this type of playfulness is something we both need, or need to cut out.  I trust we'll figure it out.  I 'd like our friendship to be a healthy one, because dying alone can be lonesome sometimes.

This Is Why I Am Single - Jesus Cripes!

Apparently, this guy died on a cross so that I wouldn't be able to get married.  I don't know how he knew that it would be an issue, over 2,000 years later, but he did it.  Now, some people think he died for everyone's sins, and was all about peace & love.  Not true!  He died so that Republicans could slip his name into any issue in order to get support from the masses.  He died so that gay folk may not get married, so that gay folk may not see their loved ones in hospitals, and so that gay folk could be murdered in his name.  He never said anything like that in The Bible, if you believe in that sort of thing.  He died, so that people would follow ink and paper to the literal rule, rather than follow their hearts and minds.  He died so that people could get rich by mentioning his name.  He died so that Mathew Shepard could burn in Hell.  What an asshole.
I personally don't think this guy died for all those things.  I don't think he's an asshole.  I think he died because he tried to show that his God was not what everyone else was saying he was.  I think he died because churches had become places of profit, rather than worship.  I think, if I believe the Bible, that he hung out with a whore and 12 other guys who went fishing a lot.  I don't think he'd have trouble with guys who like guys.
Who I do think are assholes are those who use his name to forward their hate, fear mongering and profit.  The ones who are assholes are those who disrespect others who choose not to believe that Jesus is all that and a bag of wafers, and try force others to live by their religious beliefs.  Why should anyone be forced to live by the Bible, anymore than they are forced to live by the Quran or by Erma Bombeck's The Grass Is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank?   I shouldn't be forced to live by anyone's religious beliefs.  I should be able to engage in a civil ceremony without any religious faction telling me that I may not.  It's as simple as that.

I'm not even dating anyone, so what do I care?

I care, because the oppressive energy behind this religious fervor is disheartening.  When I am told that I can not get married, I'm told I can not be loved.  Bam.  What is marriage, nowadays, but the ultimate expression of love?  Why does someone date someone else? Isn't it to find who they love enough to spend the rest of their lives with them?  To find someone to stay with until death parts them?  To say to me that I may not get married is to say to me that I am sentenced to die alone.
I have a very dear cousin who has said to me, that God does not and will not honor my marriage. That I may not get married.  I don't know if he realizes that he has said to me; that I may not express my love of someone else; that if I may not reach the destination of marriage, why bother making the the trip? Why bother trying to find someone that you can't marry, and if you're not married, you are living in sin.  If you express physical love with someone you are not married to, you are sinning. God hates sin. God hates you.  God meant for you to be alone.  Die alone.

Certainly, I don't believe any of those things are true, but my cousin does.  He chooses to believe that God does not want me to be with someone.  

Or maybe, somewhere in the back of my mind I do believe it.  Maybe that's why I've gone this long without finding someone.  Maybe I am alone because a while back, someone who is so close to me told me that I am unworthy of love.

FUCK THAT!  I'm not a religious person.  I'm not sure whether I believe in God or not, but I do know that I have lived a terribly fortunate life, I can find good in myself & other people and I feel, at times, blessed.  I know that I can respect that people believe things differently than I do, and I do not try to force them to believe as I do.  I do not try to force them to go by my rules.  I am confident that if there is a God, I am as he made me and nobody who claims to worship that same God can honestly tell me any different.

All I can say is, at the moment, I am single and alone.

 DOES THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY?

He Don't Even know! - Fuzz Face!

Here's my happy "boyfriend"!

I call him "Fuzz Face" and calls me "You".

He spends a lot of time shirtless, which I don't mind.
I especially like it during the holidays, 

when I hang various ornaments from his nipple rings.

My favorite thing about Fuzzy is

he likes to read TALES OF THE CITY

aloud to me in bed.

Best of all,

he lets me read Mona's parts!

This is Why I am Single - I Dunny Know!

What you see in my hand is a Dunny.  It is a 3 inch vinyl toy from Kidrobot.
Not too long ago, I went nutsy for collecting these things.  I have, literally, hundreds of these little guys in my home.  I have more than I want because of a brilliant marketing ploy called the blind box. Blind Box means you purchase the little fucker without knowing which one is in there.  That's right, I could buy four boxes at $10.99 each and  could have potentially bought 4 of the same one.  Each set of artist designed vinyl thingies consists of 16 or so designs, with a few variants, along with a list of odds for attaining each figure.  So, if you get the 1 in 600 odds one, you can go directly to eBay and sell it for, maybe, $200 or so.

Not me!  I collect these for the fun of it.  Or the sport of it.  Maybe I have a budding gambling problem.  I get some of the same feelings when I'm going to yank the arm that may send GODZILLA on a rampage in the penny slot machine in Vegas.  I'm not spending all I've got on these fellas.  I've developed a money saving strategy for purchasing these, now, but once in awhile I'll buy two or three boxes for the chance that I've gotten one of the really hard ones to get!

I learned something about myself when I began collecting this and who would have thunk it? Who knew I was such a completist?  I find that I will work very hard to get the complete set of Dunnys for each collection. I've completed a few of them, but I find I have limits and will go without if the last one I need is more than I'm willing to pay.  Otherwise, I'm on top of it, scouring eBay and the likes, trying to find that 1 in 600 piece that someone's willing to part with for not too crazy a price.  My completist tendencies don't end with Dunnys.  One weekend, I spent a crapload of late night hours on Hulu Plus trying to watch all of the PUPPET MASTER movies.  It's a cheesy series featuring killer marionette puppets from the 80's that waiver in quality as they go, but I MUST SEE THEM ALL!

Also, I do enjoy photography, and they all make such willing models.  As you can see from these shots, they'll stand still in almost any situation!  Another reason the Dunnys appeal to me is because I like colorful plastic things.  If I had the decorating skills, my home would be like walking into a David LaChappelle set-up in Ikea. But I don't have the skills, so it doesn't.  That doesn't mean my place is a mess, with Dunnys and other vinyl crap strewn about...  Most of my obsessions are represented in contained areas and small displays.

I know not everybody is into colorful plastic or they may find this childish attraction to toys symptoms of a Peter Pan complex, but I can't imagine giving these guys up!  I said before, I buy these because I enjoy them, not because I wanna make a profit trading & dealing on eBay.  Why would I have all of these nutty colorful things and not display them?  No closet for them!  I look at the above photo and I see multitudes of happiness in 3X3 squares.  This affection for plastic is the equivalent of the broken down lazee-boy chair that makes its way into every cliche movie about the guy moving in with his girlfriend.  I know some of you love optimists are saying, "When you find someone you really love, you'll be willing to give these up for them."  Well, how's about they love me so much they let me keep them?  Or, maybe if I find someone who really loves me and is well enough off that he has a few extra rooms, he lets me have my obsession room? (put together by a qualified interior designer).

So, for now, I am single, but I'm kept company by hundreds of 3 inch (and some 8 inch) colorful friends.  One of my favorites is the one above.  Sometimes we'll watch TV together and we'll laugh at the same things.  He gets me.  (not actually- I do not treat these figures as actual beings- I was being funny- They're plastic! - They don't talk to me!) This is why I am single.

He Don't Even Know! - The Fighter

I love imagining my Fighter boyfriend!
Here he is at the NO ON 8 March in
down town LA.

He's so politically active that we keep spare
wooden poles and poster boards under the bed.

I love that he's all about equal rights for everyone,
very firm, but fair
and will sing Popular from WICKED with me at the drop of a hat!

Now, if I could only get him to take us to marches 

that start after 9:00 AM...

FU Cupid - The Sites

I currently have a profile up on OkCupid. I think it might be a little too quirky, but it's honest.
I might worry that I'll scare guys off with my Kids In The Hall quote for the I SPEND A LOT OF TIME THINKING ABOUT... section.  I think it's hilarious, but I suppose most guys are convinced I'm psychotically obsessed with some ex-lover named, Tony.  One very young would-be suitor sent me a message asking who Tony was.  I replied "We're all Tony" and got no response.  Sure, I'm scaring off millions of would-be suitors who don't get it, but think of the connection I'll probably have with the few that do get it and respond! ...the very few.  ..the none, yet.
The fact that my entire profile is some kind of test is a This Is Why I Am Single entry for later.  I'm here to bitch about the dating sites themselves.  My first target is OkCupid- Ugh!  I'm not a fan of on-line dating because I'm not into catalog shopping.  You know,  you see the picture, you order it and when it arrives, it's nothing like the picture!  It's not the right size!  It's broken!  It took weeks to arrive!  COD!  I much prefer window shopping.  You see it from the street, you go in, you check it out and then decide if you want to take it home.  No muss, no fuss.
I was encouraged by OkCupid because of the compatibility questions.  What a great idea; a series of general questions where you compare your answers with the answers of possible boyfriends!  I went nutsy answering a crap-load of them, (775 of them to be precise)!  I figured the more information, the better!  Imagine finding the guy that answered all 775 questions the same way I did! What a match!  The site takes these answers and matches them up with everyone else, so when you look at their profile, it automatically tells you the percentages of your compatibility- "Daniel Craig is 99% your Match; 1% your enemy" (The 1% difference is we disagree on favorite Bonds- he likes Roger Moore!). Not only do you answer your questions, you rate how important the answer is to you; "A little, somewhat, Very" as well as answers you'll accept; "Yes, no, Any of the above" to further help the analytics match you up! Very scientific for a site named after a Roman myth! This is going to rock!
Then, I started reading and comparing answers. The guys I thought were hot and compatible, turned out, not so much. The way they answered their questions started upsetting me. My Judge Judy response was on high! "How can you love dogs but not accept that I love dogs AND cats? How could it be THAT important to you?", "You think the Adam and Eve story should be taught along side Evolution? But your eyes are so gorgeous!","You're Republican?? But you said 9 TO 5 was your favorite movie!", "You're unsure if you enjoy dark, violent, or disturbing music, but you won't accept if I do when I'm in the mood? But your pecs are so big!"
I soon felt that the questions I answered were just 775 opportunities to think these guys are assholes before I even meet them! God only knows what they thought of me! I looked closer at some of the answers, what they are willing to accept and concluded that if one does not take time to read the instructions, it's easy to mess up the whole thing.  If it doesn't make sense that someone is ambivalent about a subject, but is so strongly opposed to your answer, they probably didn't click the right box.  It's all too detailed and delicate.  So now, I can't pay too much attention to the % of compatibility because I know they are wonky and the only information I can truly use to determine whether someone is my potential boyfriend is by the information they provide in their profile. Just like every other site.  So, FU, Cupid!  You're not so special!
And don't get me started on the questions that ask if you would ever be friends with a homosexual, or if you would ever date someone with a gay brother!  Would it kill a Roman God to, at least, figure the compatibility of their questions to their clients?  Fuckin' Cupid.

P.S. The above photo is my catalog shot- it is untouched.  I look like that, but I don't LOOK like that, you know?

He Don't Even Know - Lens Crafter

Here's my photographer "boyfriend".

What I like most about being with him

is I never have to worry about gravity & face torque
because I always have the biggest smile for him!

He loves being behind the camera, 

while I enjoy being the model in his

crazy David LaChapelle-like photos.

My favorite was when I gripped 

a strategically placed big jalepeno

while lying naked on a giant bed of nachos.

After that shoot, 

we played in the nacho cheese for hours!

This why I am Single - Face Torque

Being a legend in my own timer, I think it's odd that I'm not totally aware of what my face is doing in photographs.  As in the picture above; I thought I was giving a pleasant "I'm happy to be where I am at this moment" smile.  Instead I got "I wonder what that itch on my calf is" flat mouth.  I thought the photo turned out well enough, left the great lighting & background, and moved on.  It wasn't until later, while filing the photo away on Flickr that I realized- I'm flirting all wrong!
Even though I'm a generally happy guy, I realized that unless I'm doing a genuinely big toothy smile or crazy over the top mouth-open gay smile, my face isn't doing what I thought it was.
All this time when I thought I was giving a guy a nice, friendly smile- no teeth, 'cause I'm playing it cool- I was actually giving them flat mouth nothing!  At least, I can be sure I wasn't giving them a frown, but instead of giving off a light smile that said, "Hi, I'm friendly and I think you're attractive, I'd sure enjoy it if you thought the same of me, "  I was actually giving them a look that said, "I breath. Fire good. Don't pee on me."
As a Gay of a Certain age, I have to give gravity its due.  I might have to admit I have a bitchy resting face, and actually have to work to make a pleasant smile.  Now, I'm afraid that I don't know how to gauge my facial muscles and will go in the opposite direction and start giving a crazy-ass toothy grin like a cartoon dog going nutsy for Beggin' Strips. This is not fun. How could something as simple as slightly lifting the corners of my mouth turn into a carefully calculated exercise in desperation?

Hopefully, I'll manage to get the right face torque to convey the appropriate smile, but in the meantime, if you've seen me walking down the street and our eyes met, I thought you were cute and I don't want to beat you up.

He Don't Even Know!- Camper

This is my "Boyfriend", Logan.

He's prepared a lovely tent

for us to go camping

somewhere between 

West Hollywood and Santa Barbara. 

I love that he thought to bring
Human Rights Campaign material

to read by campfire light.

Gay of a Certain Age- I Need Space After My Period

I've enjoyed writing ever since I can remember learning to put words together.  I enjoy playing with words so much now that, sometimes I write stuff that I find terribly amusing that other people think  is, at best, "Huh"-trocious.  I remember when actually writing was more work than it is now.  Writing on a typewriter was intimidating sometimes, because if you messed up and didn't realize it until later in your text, you were screwed!  Now, you can move your cursor and delete, correct and continue.   I remember taking a typing class in high school because I was going to need to type in College and beyond!  I sat in a room with 30 other kids for six months typing "I I I I I I...E E E E E" with the correct fingers for an hour every day until I could type 30 words a minute with no errors.  That was quite a lofty goal for me, and I never really learned to look at the source page rather than the keyboard... but I felt like I earned the right to call myself a writer.
There was always something romantic about hearing the typehammer slap the type right on to the paper, or the chug-a-chug of back spacing for half a line and the smell of the ink ribbon.  Of course now, writing is very easy, with hunt & peck more the order of the day, rather than the splayed fingers in the QWERTY positions.  Certainly my typing skills have deteriorated, but I do still find myself spacing my fingers and typing (almost) correctly when I'm not thinking about it.
It used to be that one had to think about what they were going to write and spend some time actually smacking it onto a page.  Don't get me wrong I LOVE the convenience of modern writing, I just kind of miss the process - or at least the idea of it.  I think it's too easy to push a button, type out 140 or so characters and push send.  All this goes to my fond memories of sitting in a classroom, patiently learning a skill and feeling accomplished at the end of it all.  That is something I don't think the kids get today.  It's why typos are de rigueur in national publications. People just plain don't appreciate what the process used to be, and out with the equipment went the rules. Now, you don't have to do this or that, that was the old way. Well, I'm still holding on to the old ways! I may be making new mistakes, but I'm holding true to the spirit of typing from the old days. Eventually, the old rules will be forgotten by everyone, since they are no longer taught in school (along with handwriting, science and math), but I choose to hold true. I'm still gonna hit the space bar twice after a period!

Why this rant?  (space space) click below.
http://www.cultofpedagogy.com/two-spaces-after-period/

I guess this post has nothing to do with being Gay, but so much of our daily lives don't, either.
Right?

Fine, I realized all of this while typing in my fake identity on ManHunt.

He Don't Even Know! - Phone Sexy

Here's my boyfriend calling me to let me know he's going to be a little late for dinner 

because he's going to buy a shirt.  

He's really going to get me a surprise from WACKO!

This Is Why I Am Single - The Horror!

Because I haven't given up, I've spent a lot of time scouring the profiles on OkCupid, or as I've taken to calling it, FU Cupid!  I start with the picture, if I find them attractive I go to the profile.  If they don't sound like they'll take me to a second location from our original date spot in the trunk of their car, I'll move on to the compatibility questions.  There I'll find that the match I've made in my head has turned to ashes and crumpled to the floor to be swept away by the winds of FU Cupid's flyaway wings.  It is there that I find that they do not like horror movies.  I enjoy horror movies very much and I can't imagine spending any real time, hoping to marry a man who doesn't like them!

Sure, I understand some don't like the gore, or maybe supernatural stuff really freaks them out or worse they think horror movies are just plain stupid.  I can understand the first two reasons, and I admit some horror movies are stupid beyond enjoyment, but I won't have them dismissed right of the vampire bat!   I enjoy horror movies with a sly/dark sense of humor like HOSTEL, THE EVIL DEAD, HOUSE OF THE DEVIL, FINAL DESTINATION.  I also enjoy horror moves that are a visceral rush like DAWN OF THE DEAD (2004), 28 DAYS LATER, THE DESCENT, [REC], PREY.  Also up there are the ones that are just a fun time like SHAUN OF THE DEAD, EVIL DEAD 2, TREMORS, PIRANHA (2010), SLITHER, DRAG ME TO HELL, ZOMBIELAND.  Then there's the ones that are just really good & scary like LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, THE ORPHANAGE, THE CONJURING.  I don't love all horror, I need that dark sense of humor, irony or a sense of hope, I didn't like WOLF CREEK or Rob Zombie's HALLOWEEN movies.

Anyway, it's difficult for me to imagine having a partner who can't or won't enjoy these things with me.  Certainly, we don't have to do everything together, or even like all of the same things, but this is a big part of my entertainment- I must share my enthusiasm for it with someone who gets it.  I don't wanna sit at home suffering through the terrible continuity & murky story telling of the awful and addictive AMERICAN HORROR STORY, or admiring the lush gore, hypnotic score and twists & turns of HANNIBAL all by myself!  I need someone to gasp with me, and jump in fear and giggle in ironic delight with me.  I need a horror partner!  I'm sorry, but it is a deal breaker... or a neck breaker.

He Don't Even Know! - Fuzzy

Here's my "boyfriend" thinking about snuggling with me on our sofa,

 wrapped in the fuzzy blanket our friend Skylar gave us as a prize 

for winning the whole game at his "Celebrity Night" party.

 (We have an uncanny ability to identify celebrities from eyebrow movements-

 and don't even ask how we got Jane Wiedlin of the GoGo's!)  

We will definitely be watching 

RHODA.

A Legend In My Own Timer

One of the aspects of being single is learning to do things on your own.
 I love my camera(s) and I am ever grateful for self-timers!  I travel alone very often and I place myself in the way of fabulousness all the time and it is very important for me to get a picture of myself in that fabulous place!
It's almost a sport, setting the timer and getting yourself in place, then after the camera has clicked seeing if you got yourself in the right place, checking if you're in focus along with your surroundings or if you're making the face you think you're making.  I usually refuse the well meaning, "Do you want me to take the picture for you?", because, really, where's the fun?
The only thing I ask of people is to be aware of their surroundings - and if they see a camera all by itself, balanced precariously on a fence or the edge of a fountain, with a little light blinking on it with increasing speed DON'T STAND IN FRONT OF IT!  ...and certainly, don't pick it up!
In the shot above, which we'll call Bryant Park Fail, the idiot reaching for my camera didn't get away with a new toy and I was very annoyed, but more, I was amused with myself and the situation.  When you're alone, sometimes it's those awkward interactions that make your day.

He Don't Even Know! - South Beach Dream

Here's my South Beach Dream boyfriend

I imagine that he has recorded all episodes of

QUE PASA, USA?

 to watch in bed with me

because it's bilingual and we both love
Steven Bauer.

FU Cupid

Like I said, I haven't given up on love.
Actually, the only event I hold in my home every year is CRAFT NIGHT.
Every year, usually in January, I invite friends over for crafting Valentine's Day cards and cocktails.  I put out a spread that would make Martha Stewart green with envy, then green with nausea as she studied the materials that are available.  There's construction paper, glitter, stickers galore, colorful popsicle sticks, abandoned boa scraps, random feathers, vintage V-Day cards, superhero schoolhouse valentines, post cards, magazine cut outs, pornographic magazines for cutting out and a random red alcoholic concoction that strikes my fancy two hours before folks arrive.
It's always a fun time, where two or three different circles of friends, meet or play catch up. The food is usually from Daphne's Greek Cafe, 'cause that's what the kids like and it's vegan-friendly.  The cards created vary from sweetheart, mom-ready to "oh no you di'n't", pornographic.  I tend to make both kinds.  Of course, I make the cards and have no one to give them to.  That's not the point!  It is a night to celebrate the love of friends and companions and cherry cream soda mixed with prosecco.
It takes a few hours to set up and a few days to take down... I like to craft a few here and there as ideas hit me throughout the week, leaving me the following Friday or Saturday to dedicate to cleaning up.  It's always worth the effort!

So, I present a few of my more ironic, or down right anti, Valentine's Day Cards for your viewing endurement.

' Cause I ain't fucking nothing else!

Goodbye, love Kitty

Right?

Finally, the card that inspired this blog...

BUT REALLY, I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP!!

He Don't Even Know! - Wet

Yeah, I'm wet, too.

Don't Let's Be Literal

Today I learned that Dirk Shafer died.
Dirk played a small role on the road to my gay- He was in the first Playgirl Magazine I bought with a friend (oddly,  I was "not Gay" then).  As we looked through it, I remember saying "He's really good looking and it really is sexier that they are not showing dick."  It was a bit weird to finally get the courage up to buy the magazine to see naked men and it's the issue where they didn't show the stuff!  I learned later in Dirk's MAN OF THE YEAR, that he had convinced them to do it.  Thanks, Dirk!
Who knows, maybe my not seeing the stuff saved me from being Gay before I was ready.
Years later, I moved to LA and eventually met Dirk.  He was handsome, nice and funny.  We weren't quite regular friends, but whenever we saw each other, he always had a hug and a smile for me.  It was the same hug and smile he had for many people- he was well loved and admired.  Beyond his sexiness, he had an infectious positive attitude.  I aspired to be like him.  ...specifically on one night when we were in the same Bachelor Auction in 2008.  It was the night he fetched over $350 for a date with him-I wanted to be like that!  I fetched a very rough $60 that was clearly for charity.  Seriously, why wasn't he saved for last?  So, there we were, on that night, two bachelors side by side and now, roughly seven years later, both single - at least that's what he had listed on his Facebook profile.   Just a glance at his Facebook wall today,  will show you how much he was loved and how many people called him friend.  Although he was single, I don't think Dirk was ever lonely.

He was found in his car, parked near his home.   I choose to imagine he went quietly, without trauma and if he realized he was dying, his last thoughts were not worrying that he didn't love or wasn't loved enough.  Even though he is gone,  I still admire him and I can still aspire be like him- open, friendly, positive and supportive.    Those qualities are really what drew everyone to him, and with all that love, how could anyone feel alone?

Gay of a Certain Age

As a Gay of a Certain Age, I tend to look back on my life, to see why I am the way I am.
I came out, to myself, as well as the rest of the world when I was 28 years old.
I had sex with a woman, twice, within six months- starting on Graduation night.
Then no sex until over ten years later.
I fooled around, once or twice, with a male friend somewhere in there,
 but that left me a little more confused than satisfied.
 I wasn't a gay who hid in the closet and dated women to throw people off the track.  I wasn't a gay who dated men freely and didn't care what others thought.  I was blissfully in denial with myself and ultimately reasoned that I was attracted to guys, but there were girls I liked, so I dated neither;
 it wouldn't be fair to the girls if I went out with them while I was attracted to guys.
 I also didn't date guys because being attracted to guys didn't necessarily mean that I was gay.
So, I wasted ten years of my life, sitting on a fence, not doing anything with anyone
 until one night, while routinely sneaking my roommate's gay porn I realized, "Dude, I'm gay".
Luckily, without even realizing it, I had surrounded myself with gay and gay-friendly people.
 My coming out process was relatively painless- as a matter of fact I said on more than one occassion, "Do me the courtesy of acting surprised."

 I don't care to sit and wonder about who I'd be, or who I'd be with if I hadn't spent ten years of my life forming relationships with the denizens of Knots Landing, rather than actual people.  All I know is those years made me who I am today and I like who I am today.
Still, there is a little part of me that suspects that the reason I'm going to "die alone" is hidden somewhere in that ten year gap and I wonder how I could be in denial for so long.
  I've decided that This is could very well be part of the reason.

He Don't Even Know! - Proud

Proud at L.A. Pride

Gay of a Certain Age

As a Gay of a Certain Age, I've decided that my time off the stage does not need to be spent in the spotlight.  When I see some hyper gay bouncing around, speaking loudly and trying to be everyone's friend, I get so very annoyed.  I get annoyed mostly because I realize that that used to be me.  Certainly, when I was doing that, I wasn't consciously thinking "I must make everyone look at me and like me! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!"  I just thought that I was high energy and fun!
Now, I find that I'm okay with not leading a conversation, or even expressing an opinion on a certain subject.  I learned that it is possible to be right all the time, it's just not necessary that everyone knows it.  Of course, I still desire attention, but I no longer desire to put a lampshade on my head and dance on a table.  Now, I put a wig on my head and dance on a stage and (hopefully) earn attention rather than grab it.  Don't get me wrong, I don't retreat to the corners at parties or dinners with friends and I'll take my moments when they come my way- because if someone says, "Danny, Sondheim. Go!"  I'm Being Alive, taking Rose's Turn and Losing My Mind in an instant!  Mostly, I'm comfortable and content sitting calmly, waiting for attention to come to me.  
Now, someone please tell that Lady GaGa spewing Noid to shut the fuck up and sit down.

Too Busy For Love!

When I say I've made myself too busy for love, I mean it!
My dear, caring friends always say, "Why don't you, at least, get a dog?"
Let me start by saying I love dogs!  I love animals in general, but dogs are special because we are on the same wavelength- I don't know if they're as smart as me or I'm as dumb as they are.

(Don't start on a "dogs aren't dumb" rant because I mean it in the most loving way possible and don't tell me you've never seen a dog get his head stuck in a dryer vent!)

Anyway, I love dogs, and it is that love that prevents me from get one... for now.
I have a regular work schedule M-F, but my after work and weekend hours are so irregular and "at a whim" that I don't think it would be fair to inflict that irregularity on a dog.  I know they need stability and a framework of structure.  Fortunately, I know a lot of people who have dogs, who also know I am more responsible than I am coming across here and let me dog sit for them!  I can adjust my schedule  & events around dogs for a short time- It doesn't kill me to miss an impromptu meal after a show once in awhile.  So, while people enjoy their time away from their pets, knowing they're okay, I get my sweet pup loving for a little bit and the dogs get more love than they can stand!  Then, I give them back, free to flit about on a whim, once again.

If I can barely muster the time to be with a being I know for certain I love unconditionally, how can I possibly think I can make time for a boyfriend???
I know, when I find the one I'm really interested in, the time makes itself.
Until that happens, maybe I should start a boyfriend sitting service.

This Why I Am Single

I blame my mother.  She did too good a job of raising a semi-well adjusted, independent son.  While she didn't actually divorce until after I was out of high school, she raised four children by herself.  The man I call "my alleged father" was in and out during that time, and when he was around, he was more of a burden to her than help.  I must have been really spoiled because, growing up I had no idea how difficult it must have been for her.  Now, I have no idea how she clothed and fed four happy children.  I knew, sometimes, that we were doing without, but I never felt lacking in the important things.  There were two or three years that we lived in Government assisted housing and used food stamps, but I never learned to feel any shame about it.   Sure, we kids weren't angels, but today we all are responsible adults and all family gatherings are almost disappointingly drama-free.  I think a large part of the reason we grew up with good attitudes is that my mother spoke to us, when we were naughty; she'd explain to us why what we did was wrong and why we shouldn't do it.  My cousins used to hate getting in to trouble at our house because they'd have to sit through the lecture, they preferred the Spank & Go method.

My mother never told me how hard she was working.  It's just as I look back that I realize how she went to work every day and came home exhausted, made sure we were fed and was in bed by 9 to start all over again.  I also see that I could have made it a little easier on her.  Still, because her schedule was so limited, I learned to do my own laundry, how to hate ironing (I do not iron!), how to cook my own meals and how to deal with minor situations on my own.  I learned how to handle myself, yet I'm not too proud to ask for help if I need it.  (I may try a little too long to try to do something on my own, but ultimately I will make the call.)  So, it is through her example,
and a little to her absence, that I have learned to be fiercely independent.  I'm not saying I don't need anybody, but I will survive if I don't find someone. The most important thing, I can take my time.